Maintaining Jesse – Page 1

A young latino business owner learns to be submissive when he endures his first gay bondage experience with an older client in this stimulating story from Kronmire4. Page 1.

Maintaining Jesse – Page 1
by Kronmire4
Art by Amalaric

I.

jesse-jpgSince I had enjoyed having tropical fish at various times, both as a child and later as a teenager, I decided when I moved to a new house in town that a large aquarium (in this case, 125 gallons) would be a fine and fun addition to the living room; how little did I know then what fun this hobby would lead to. As I did not want to handle the routine maintenance of such a big tank, a friend suggested that I use a new aquarium maintenance service that had recently been established in my city. My telephone call to Aquaria Unlimited established contact with the young man who ran the service, one Jesse Ramirez. We agreed upon a monthly service contract and his first maintenance appointment for Tuesday of the following week.

When the doorbell rang on the set day, I was delighted to open the door to meet a charming young hispanic male, about 150 pounds of the wiry, compact muscle established not at a gym but by manhandling various heavy fish tanks and related equipment. He was 26 years old, with black wavy hair and dark, sparkling eyes; it was obvious why he had already obtained a steady list of customers, as he had a warm and winning personality beyond his obvious muscular good looks. Jesse was clad in a form-fitting tee shirt emblazoned with his company logo and the sort of baggy long shorts so popular with young people these days. His bare legs were covered with dark, fine hair and showed well-developed calves. I couldn’t have asked for more.

After a firm handshake, I invited him into my living room and showed him the fish tank; I had been watching television so settled back to resume, although this time my watching was diverted by Jesse. It was easy to glance over while he worked at the tank, his back to me, and it was just as easy to admire his firm butt as he stretched to change the tank water and to clean the various aquarium fixtures; once as he squatted down to pick up a tool from the floor, his shorts rode low, revealing a precious bit of ass crack between smooth, hairless cheeks. At one point I needed to leave the room to answer the telephone, and when I returned, without his noticing, I caught him staring at a picture calendar in the adjoining kitchen — a calendar of a French football team posing nude; Jesse quickly looked away and was back at his tank work when I re-entered the room. He continued chatting pleasantly and not uncomfortably although he threw in a comment about “having a girlfriend” which he emphasized a bit too much to be convincing. That’s when I had my idea, but I knew it would take another visit to put my plan together. When he finished his work, I wrote him his check and told him I looked forward to next month’s visit, to which he replied, “Oh, me too, Mr. Fielder”.

The next month crept by until the maintenance date, and when Jesse arrived at the appointed hour, he went straight to the tank and to work. The only change in my living room was a tall wooden hatrack which had belonged to my grandfather; it was in the room on his first visit, but this time I had moved it to a spot right next to the tank; in addition to a couple of baseball caps, hanging from the rack spokes were three leather dog collars (two of them studded), a leather two-piece strap known as a “slapper”, a leather flogger and a black leather-covered paddle. As I watched TV, I noticed Jesse occasionally stealing glances at the rack, although he didn’t move toward it or say anything — in fact, he became much quieter than he had been.

I bided my time, and as I wrote him his check at the work’s conclusion, Jesse coughed nervously and said, “Mr. Fielder, I was wondering if I could ask you something personal, please don’t be offended.” I put on my best puzzled expression and said, “Why, Jesse, whatever is troubling you?” “Well” he said, “I was wondering about those leather things on your hatrack. What are they for?” At that moment, I knew I had him. Smiling broadly but sympathetically, I got up and went over to the rack where I selected one of the studded leather collars and brought it back to where he was sitting. “Oh, you mean these.” He blushed furiously and said, “Uh, er, yessir.” I said, “Well, Jesse, they are part of a hobby of mine. Sometimes during certain activities, it can be fun for a man to wear something like this — would you like to try it on?”

He flushed more deeply then and said, “Oh, that’s okay, sir, I was just wondering. I don’t want to mess with anything.” “Now, come on Jessee” I said, “it won’t hurt to try this on; now stand up for me.” He slowly did as he was told as I moved behind his back and fastened the collar firmly but comfortably around his tanned, slender neck. His head was bowed, and I walked around in front of him to admire the view, which was exceptional. “My, young man, that looks as if it were made just for you. Why don’t you have a look for yourself in the mirror — the large one is in the bathroom just down the hall.” He said nothing but trembled a little as I took him by the hand and led him down the hall where he got a good view of his trim form in the mirror there.

“You know, Jesse, we’d both get a better idea of how this collar sets off your body if you’d take your shirt off. Come on, there’s no one else here.” As I said that, I began to tug his tee shirt up over his firm young belly, exposing a wondrous goody trail of fine tufted hairs spreading from his navel on down to disappear into his pants. He didn’t protest but his body quivered as I managed to pull the shirt completely off him. His firm, smooth pecs were a delight to see, his brown nipples pert but not yet erect. “Say,” I said excitedly, “I know just what would add the perfect touch to this image; stay just as you are.” I opened a drawer under the bathroom sink and took out what I had previously placed there: leather wrist restraints and a latching metal clasp. “Give me your wrist.”

Not giving the shy boy time to protest, I grabbed his left wrist and quickly fastened one of the leather strips to it and buckled it tightly. Acting as fast as I could, I performed the same action on his remaining wrist, then turned him around and clasped both restraints together with the metal clip. “There now, Jesse, you look in prime shape — prime beef one might say.” He was quite helpless and seemed worried about what might happen next, as well he might. “Please, Mr. Fielder, I don’t think I know what is going on here; please let me go”, the frantic lad panted. “But, my boy, you are the one who asked what these items were for. I’m only trying to help you to understand what a man’s needs can be. Besides, I believe you are enjoying this more than you may admit”, I said as I noted a significant bulge at Jesse’s crotch.

At that moment, I rummaged through the drawer again and brought out a stiff leather riding crop. Seeing it, Jesse’s eyes grew much wider and he gasped, “Sir, what is that for?” I smiled wickedly and said, “Oh, it’s just a little persuader I have for lads who need some discipline — firm discipline. I’ve been watching you, Jesse, and I think you need some of that discipline.” I slowly began to slide the soft leather wide tip of the crop across the boy’s bare shoulders and around his chest, pausing for some added pressure on each of his nipples, which were getting harder as the action continued. Finally I slid the crop over the boy’s face and under his nose, where he took a tremendous whiff of it and closed his eyes to better enjoy the frangrance of the warm, black leather tool. That action on his part was my final clue that he wanted what I had to give.

II.

Jesse was beginning to breath harder as he stood there in my bathroom, bare to the waist, wearing only the studded collar, his sneakers and his baggy shorts (which by now were riding lower on his slender hips), his wrists still chained securely behind his back. I began to massage his warm shoulders, bringing my fingertips around and up and down his manly chest, circling his brown nipples, and all the way down to the waistband of his shorts. He shuddered now and then as my hands made their explorations of his torso. He said nothing but nervously watched my every move. At last I began to rub my fingers over his now fully erect nipples and asked him, “How does this feel?”

He still looked frightened but continued to keep quiet; I began to pinch those nipples hard until he finally let out a little cry of pain. Yes, I thought to myself, this boy will do very nicely for my needs. “Come, Jesse” I commanded, “I have more, much more in store for a fine, fit lad like yourself.” I grabbed the front band of his shorts and pulled him out of the bathroom and across the hall to my special bedroom where I stopped to watch his face intently — my attention paid off, as a look of stark terror came into his dark eyes. I followed his gaze to my double bed where I had previously removed sheets and other bedding, leaving only the bare mattress; attached at each of the four bedposts was a chain with a clip at the end of it. Spread out at the foot of the mattress were various floggers, clips, chains, paddles, straps and other instruments of punishment. “Please, Mr. Fielder,” he pleaded, “What are you going to do to me? I just want to go home! Please let me go home!” I laughed at his predicament and replied, “Why, Jesse, I’m only going to further your education, beginning with the discipline which you so greatly need. You must learn obedience, and I am to be your teacher.”

In the lad’s confused state of mind, I took the opportunity to unclasp his wrists quickly, only to throw him onto his back against the mattress before he knew what was happening and secured his wrists to the two upper bedposts; before he realized it, he was once again totally helpless, his upper body shaking with fear and his long legs thrashing aimlessly against the mattress without any chance of getting free. I paused to admire the beefy lad as he struggled against the unyielding straps holding his wrists to the bed frame. Things were working out even better than I had planned, and I thoroughly enjoyed the sight of Jesse’s totally helpless body which was completely under my control. His fear and confusion gave way to a look of hatred as he glared at me, a look which confirmed my suspicion that this plan was working perfectly.

Knowing that Jesse was incapable of escape, I left the room to make a telephone call. While doing so I could hear the boy struggling noisily to get free, and I chuckled because I knew that all help for him was beyond his reach. When I returned to the bedroom I moved down to remove Jesse’s sneakers and to fasten leather restraints to his ankles as well; before securing his feet to the bed, I unsnapped his shorts, slowly unzipped them and pulled them down and off his body; other than his somewhat worn, white briefs (which contained what appeared to me to be a sizeable swelling within) Jesse was bare, his sweating skin glistening in the room light. His feet were then secured, and I let him struggle and squirm as he tried manfully to escape his tight bondage. My experience in subduing and restraining much stronger men paid off well in his case. The more he twisted and turned, the more amused I became. He was now spread-eagled to the bed with just enough play in the chains securing him to allow him to pitch and bounce but not enough to spoil the full spread and vulnerability of his handsome body’s limbs. After a few minutes he began to tire and to slow down his fight for freedom. “Keep going”, I said, “Struggle as much as you want –you are mine now, to do as I wish. As your new master, Jesse, I will insist upon strict obedience from you, and your training begins this day.”

Sitting down on the bed beside the restless boy, I allowed my hands to caress his near-naked physique, exploring every aspect of his ripe young muscles. Certain areas, including his armpits, his ribcage, his tits, his feet and his inner thighs seemed particularly sensitive, and he showed a definite ticklish propensity, a pleasing extra revelation which I would remember for later pleasures. Jesse tried to stretch himself away from my grasp but was obviously unsuccessful. I began to rub and fondle his genitalia through the thin fabric of his briefs, and that action caused his firm prick to grow ever larger against the pressures of my manipulative fingers. His eyes glazed over as if on some subconscious level he had begun to enjoy being so mercilessly used and abused against his will, even as he became more and more afraid of what was happening to him for the first time in his young life. I next took a small pocketknife and waved it in front of his scared countenance before reaching down and quickly cutting away the sweat-drenched briefs; that revealed his most intimate treasures and allowed his excited cock to spring forward on its own. For the first time since his arrival here Jesse was completely nude, and the pleasure which I found in his body was causing my heart to race with a savage thrill. He was breathing in short gasps now as I took my time to examine his manhood. Nestled under the shadow of his erect dick, the lad’s balls were large and hairy and seemed to be full of his manjuice. I knew that I must experience all that he had to offer, but the first order of the day would be his punishment. When I began the plan, I didn’t dream it would result in such a delicioius reward for my efforts.

It occurred to me that this event needed to be immortalized, and I had the idea to get out my digital camera at this point; I began photographing the helpless naked boy in his state of forced glory. He begged me to stop, but I only said, “Nonsense, son, I plan to keep a photographic record of your torments so that I can enjoy it later at my leisure.” I couldn’t help but laugh at his discomfort, embarrassment and disgust, his frantic but fruitless attempts to hide himself and his nakedness from my camera’s probing lens. After taking a number of additional pictures, it was time to get serious, for this young fellow had a lot to learn.

Bringing together all of my leather implements from the foot of the bed, I began to apply them to him, each in its turn. The paddling of his hard penis and balls with the black leather paddle and a small riding crop began his screams of pain. “Please sir, don’t”, Jesse began to beg. I ignored him. The leather flogger met with the best results of all, as Jesse turned and twisted, trying to avoid each lash as the whip left excellent red stripes across his smooth chest, belly and thighs; droplets of his sweat only added to his beauty and to my own satisfaction with the proceedings. He kept on begging me to stop the punishment, but those strident cries only spurred me on to deliver the blows faster and with more force; at last, he began to reach some accommodation in his mind with the brisk flogging, and his engorged prick expanded to its full size, now totally beyond his conscious efforts to control it as it bobbed and weaved, seemingly with a mind of its own. From time to time I paused and stroked his pulsating hardon with my fingers, tantalizing Jesse by running my hand up and down the shaft, and each time I did so he shot me another look of fear and revulsion but made no more sounds other than his heavy breathing. Apprehensive that he might come too soon, I eased up on the cock pressure and allowed him to relax, but only briefly. My camera captured some great closeups of his now fully-displayed most private parts as well as of his tear-stained, handsome facial expressions, including that look of abject terror in his flashing dark eyes. I knew that later I would take comfort in reviewing the scrapbook of photos of this very special evening.

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